Eight Hours Time
by Slash4Femme
Summary: two couples struggle to come to terms with the aftermath of "For Gedda." Gil/David Greg/Nick. Warning: cannon character death.


This all will probably become completely out of cannon as soon as season 9 airs but I had to write it. My first Nick/Greg fic although I've been a fan for a long time. Also this was a hard fic to write given my love of Gil/David.

Eight Hours Time 

1.

The first thing that happens is his mind stops. It goes completely silent and for a few moments he's paralyzed, as thoroughly as if he's taken a blow to the spine, he can't think he can't move. Then comes the anger, crashing down on him wave after wave of it. Along with it comes the knowledge that someone has done this, someone is responsible to taking this life. The anger almost caries him through what he has to do, what he knows he has to do, but not quite, and then the pain comes. He tries to block the pain out because he knows when it hits him, really hits him, he won't be able to function and he needs to function, needs to get this done. He tries to hold out, to hold on and he succeeds for longer then he expected, a small voice in the back of his mind tell him, longer then he should. It does come though, the pain does come, so intense he can't really call it grief; grief seems too narrow a word to describe what this is. He stops being aware of anything except for the fact that he needs to keep going, needs to keep stable, he can not break down, not yet. Hands grab his by the arms, turn him, almost shove him forward and it takes him so much longer then it should to realize he's in his office. The door close and he sinks down in his chair. His office is safe, a safe place for him to let go a little, but not too much, not until he's at home.

2.

In his darker moments Greg often thought that there relationship would go a lot smoother if there wasn't always a crisis. Working as a CSI was hard, and any kind of job in law enforcement tended to be tough on a relationship. Which was why, when he stopped to think about it, it seemed pretty much like a miracle they had made it as far as they had. There had been tough cases, sleepless days, and long hours of unpaid over-time. Nick had been stocked, then kidnapped and buried alive. Greg had gotten blown up and then beaten within an inch of his life. Sara had left, and Warrick's marriage had failed. Yet somehow they had managed to survive, together and mostly intact.

In the beginning they'd been in love. Crazy about each other, flirting, unable to keep they're hands off each other. As the years had passed they'd become easier together. Greg didn't have to be around Nick all the time, constantly flirting with him because he knew Nick would be there when he got home, because he knew Nick would always be there. Greg couldn't help finding it ironic that everyone in the lab assumed the big epic romance was between Grissom and Sara when he and Nick had gotten together first and in the end staying together longer. He wasn't the young lab tech who had fallen hopelessly in love anymore, and Nick wasn't the slightly older CSI who'd shyly asked him out. Instead they where now the couple who co-leased an apartment and finished each other's thoughts. Yes, they fought, Greg had even gone as far as to move out at one point but they'd worked through it, they always did.

Now Greg holds Nick and wonders how they're going to work through this. Nick is inconsolable in the true meaning of the word, and Greg's own minds still refuses to process what's happened. Warrick Brown is dead. Shot to death in his own car. Greg has seen crime scenes like that dozens of times before but never like this. Never when it was a friend. He holds Nick, rocks him back and forth, where they'd collapse on the couch in their apartment. He strokes Nick's hair and back, even as he knows he can't really take the pain away or even ease it. Greg had known Warrick, worked with him, liked him, but Warrick and Nick had been best friends since before Greg had even come to Vegas. When Nick starts hyperventilating Greg moves him so that Nick's head his between his knees murmuring commands for Nick to keep breathing and take deep breaths, liked he'd learned to do after Nick had been buried alive. He takes Nick's hands in his own and silently swears to himself and to Nick that they'll get through is. Somehow, they will survive.

3.

Hodges hovers over Grissom not sure what to do. Grissom seems to have gone into some kind of shock. He just sits at his desk staring out into the distance. Grissom still has that look on his face. The one that had made Hodges take one look him and practically shove Grissom into his own office. Hodges makes a move to touch him, to try and snap him out of it or comfort him in some way, and then thinks better of it. He rings his hand together then folds them over his chest. He doesn't know what to do.

Grissom isn't usually like this. Grissom always acts, always does something. When Nick was buried alive, when Sara was kidnapped Grissom had been a whirlwind of action, thinking, moving, getting results, holding them all together. Now Grissom just sits there as if trapped in his own mind and Hodges doesn't know what to do about it. Warrick is gone, and Hodges feels like this should mean more, like he should be angry or grief stricken but his mind isn't dealing with it like that. Instead half of his mind is trying to figure out how to take care of Grissom and possibly even get him home, and the other half is going over the work that will need to be done. Gently he reaches forward and takes one of Grissom's hands in his, while the other half of his mind wonders how far up the food chain the corruption has to go before they would start bumping off CSIs in alleys.

"Grissom?"

Slowly Grissom turns towards Hodges but Hodges sees that Grissom's eyes don't really focus on him.

"I'm going to get you home."

Grissom makes as if to say something but Hodges is already on his cellphone calling Brass. Grissom might not be able to take charge this time, but Hodges can and will.

4.

Nick is staring at a cup of coffee wondering if he's going to throw up again. He was the first one on the scene, and he's not sure how he did it, call the cops, the paramedics, everything he was trained to do. He was a cop back in Dallas, he's been a CSI for a long time, seen more crime scenes then he can even thing about right now, but it's never been like this, like that. It was never his best friend lying there riddled with holes. His stomach turns again and he pushes himself away form the counter and the smell of the coffee. He doesn't know how he made it through, made it home. He'd stayed long enough for them to take his statement and then just walked away, neither Grissom nor Brass had said anything; they'd just let him go. It's a miracle really, that he made it home at all. It had been Greg's night off when Nick came in the front door Greg had come out, still dressed for bed, looking white and shocked. Nick had known then that Greg had gotten the call, probably from Brass maybe even Ecklie and that's when he'd lost it completely. He wasn't sure of how long he'd cried as Greg held him on their couch, and then the shaking and retching had started.

His stomach seems to have settled slight and takes a tentative sip of his coffee. He has to pull it together, snap out of this. It would have killed Warrick to see him like this, the way it almost had when he'd been taken and buried. The memories of those hours of hell swim through his mind, only this time it's Warrick in that box, covered in blood, lifeless eyes staring straight ahead. He can't breathe; dimly he hears the cup fall to the floor and smash, he still can't breathe, can't stop shaking. Then Greg's there, putting his arms around him, holding him close and Nick buries his face in the curve of Greg's neck. The tears are coming again and he can't do anything to stop them.

5.

Grissom can't process what's happening. He should be able to, it's after all very simple, but he's mind refuses to stick to anything long enough for him to really comprehend it. Some how he seems to have gotten from his office to his living room, but Grissom realizes he's missed all the steps in between. Hodges is there, bending over him with a cup in his hand, and Grissom takes it automatically and only realizes after he's taken a couple sips that it's tea. The pain, which had been so intense back at the lab, is now a dull paralyzing ache throughout his entire body. If this was physical pain he knows he'd been screaming right now, but all he feels is tired. Hodges is there, sitting next to him now, gently rubbing his back, and he's so tired, unbelievably tired. He should be working, doing his job. One of his CSI's is dead; he has no right not to be doing his job. He should be calling Catherine, because she's so very much not all right and he doesn't think she should be alone at a time like this. Yes there are a thousand things he should be doing. Instead he closes his eyes and lets the darkness take him.

6.

When Nick finally passes out on their bed, Greg calls Catherine. He doesn't get her; instead her mother answers the telephone. Their conversation is short, but Greg learns that Catherine is about as inconsolable as Nick has been and her mother isn't planning on leaving her alone anytime soon. He thanks her, tells her to tell Catherine that he and Nick are there if she needs them and hangs up. He goes into the kitchen and cleans up the coffee cup Nick broke, resets the coffee pot for tomorrow. He goes around the apartment putting down the blackout curtains, and feeds his fish.

He doesn't want to go into the bedroom incase he wakes up Nick so he finally goes into the bathroom and leans against the sink. Warrick is dead. Killed in an alley. Murdered. There was a time he thought he would die, murdered in an alley. He closes his eyes. He hopes it was quick, that Warrick didn't have time to think about it, didn't have time to be afraid. Greg realizes he's crying, shaking and crying. He wraps his arms around himself and slowly slides down to sit on the floor and cries. He cries for all the times Warrick was kind, helped him out, he cries because Warrick was cool with it when Nick came out to him, he cries because a little part of him thinks it could have been Nick. Mostly he cries because it's so fucking needless and stupid, Warrick dying this way, of all ways. He cries because he'll miss Warrick, a lot.

He cries and cries and then gets up, splashes some water on his face. Slowly he walks back through the apartment turning off the light. Then finally goes into the bed room and crawls into bed next to Nick, puts his arms around Nick and just holds him for a while.

7.

Hodges paces around Grissom apartment thinking. He shouldn't have done that. Drugging Grissom was probably the wrong thing to do and he can't even imagine the fight they're going to have when Grissom wakes up and realizes Hodges drugged his tea. It's just that he couldn't think of anything else to do. The confidence that had possessed him in Grissom's office had leeched away replaced by Hodges' common sense. He can't do it without Grissom, yes maybe he can function without being crippled under the weight of grief, but he can't do what needs to be done. Only Grissom can do that. Grissom needs to snap out of whatever kind of shock he's in, not just for the rest of them who need him, but also for himself. This can't happen to Grissom. Not after Sara.

Hodges stops and leans against the counter island in the middle of the kitchen. They're running out of options. They've been all running out of options for a while now. Sara leaving should have made that clear, but instead it's taken Warrick's death. Hodges closes his eyes. He's afraid he realizes, afraid that he's run out of options first, because there's only one think left for him to do. One person who can fix this, or make it so very much worse, but that's a risk they're going to have to take. David Hodges would have never thought of himself as the kind of person to give it all up for the greater good. He doesn't do heroic, self-sacrificing things. He's not that kind of person, he doesn't make the big gestures. This doesn't feel like a big gesture, this feels small, and horrible, and he knows it's the right thing to do, even has he knows it's going to destroy everything he ever really wanted. For the first time all day tears come to his eyes and he realizes he's shaking. He swears silently to himself, as he takes out his cellphone, calling a number he still has on speed dial. He listens to it ring and prays that she won't pick up even though he doesn't know what he'll do is she doesn't. There's a click and a voice he still remembers so clearly, one he, in his most petty moments, wished he'd never hear again. She says his name and he steals himself for what he's knows will come next.

"Sara?"

He takes a breath, closes his eyes again.

"I don't really know how to say this. . ."


End file.
